


Hush

by sophinisba



Series: summerpornathon 2011 [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Community: summerpornathon, F/M, Pegging, Quiet Sex, Team Gluttony, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-26
Updated: 2011-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-20 17:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When we get back to Camelot I'll make you scream, I promise."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hush

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sex Toys challenge at summerpornathon and for the "silence" square on my kink-bingo card.

"Hush," Gwen whispers, even though she likes the sound of his moans. It's even lovelier when they quiet to whimpers though, when she knows he's holding them back for her sake. "When we get back to Camelot I'll make you scream, I promise, but for now I don't want you waking up the whole camp. Is that understood?"

Lancelot nods silently, and Gwen leans forward, her breasts sliding against the sweat-slick skin of his back, to press a kiss to the back of his neck. She gently eases her thumb out of his arse and nudges the cock against his opening. "Ready?" she breathes.

"Yes, my lady."

Gwen sits back on her heels and steadies them both with a hand at Lancelot's hip, then slowly, cautiously, pushes forward. Lancelot lets out a long, shuddering breath as the cock slides into him, but whatever he's feeling he resists giving it voice.

"Do you like this?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Can you take more? You want it deeper?"

"Please."

Gwen pushes, smiling at the sweet strain in Lancelot's voice but still wishing she felt surer of herself, that she knew how to move with this thing strapped around her pelvis. Morgana always made it seem so easy, natural, like an extension of her own body, but Gwen never had the chance to try it before, and here she is pretending to be in control, when really she can't feel anything, and perhaps she's going about this all wrong, and at any moment some fastening will come loose or the cock will snap out of place or maybe she'll truly hurt him…and not in the way he wants to be hurt.

Well, good thing Lancelot doesn't need to know any of that. He's got his face pressed into the bedroll, starting to press forward on his knees as she pushes deeper into his arse. Then she's done, there's no more give, and she goes still for a moment, waiting for him to catch his breath.

Gwen thinks about questions she could ask him: does it feel good, has he ever let a woman fuck him like this before, and what would the other knights say if they knew. But no, she decides, she doesn't need to ask, she doesn't need to be told whether she's doing this right. She just needs to draw back enough that when she shoves in again he grunts in surprise and rocks forward violently, almost knocked off balance. Gwen grips tighter at his hip, telling him, steady, still, without words. She slides her other hand soothingly over his back and then, on impulse, reaches up to tangle her fingers in his thick hair, and she pounds into him again.

It's hot in this valley, and the ground is uneven under her knees. Gwen's got sweat and spit and oil all over her hands, smeared on her thigh, and the harness still doesn't fit right. The cock doesn't stimulate her, if anything only irritates with its pressure against her bone. But it doesn't matter, as she tugs at Lancelot's hair, as he lifts a hand to bite on his own thumb, as she thrusts into him, again and again. She's riding the power of his body under hers, opening to hers, the cries he's still trying to hold back. Everyone knows that Gwen and Lancelot lie together every night, but he's keeping quiet because she told him to, and when he calls her a lady that's just what she is.

Gwen lets go of Lancelot's hair, lets her whole body drape over his, and with her cock buried deep inside Lancelot's arse she takes hold of his length and strokes, rough and unyielding, and whispers, "You can let go, you can come now, my sweet Lancelot," and rides him as he comes apart.


End file.
